A Word for Us
by Noablarenglish
Summary: America is on the battlefield when he sees Russia lying in the snow.


White. White was all he seemed to see nowadays, nothing but just...white. It was depressing and beautiful at the sametime. Bitter-sweet, you could say. He wouldn't have minded it so much if it wasn't so damn cold. He trudged on through the snow, his boots making crunching sounds as he crushed thousands of little snowflakes undertoe. Speaking of toes, he couldn't feel his at the current moment.

"Why does it have to be so freakin' cold in Germany?" His breath came in large clouds of white as he shouted to no one in particular.

"Go away." America froze at the icy words coming from his left. He slowly turned. What greeted him was a large Russian man lying on the ground, covered in snow. America let out a shout of surprise. America had been fighting in Torgau, it was expected that he would meet with Russia eventually but it still surprised him none the less.

He walked over to the body and knelt down.

"How long have you been here?" America quizzed the man.

"Где я? Почему вы говорите странно?(1)" The Russian man slurred, he didn't appear to be shivering.

"Shit." America knew the signs of hypothermia and from the looks of it Russia was dangeling in the 'severe' zone. He quickly began to pull Russia out of the snow drift. Russia immediatly started to fight him. Thrashing his limbs against the American and spraying snow to and fro.

"Russia! RUSSIA STOP IT'S ME! IT'S ME!" Russia didn't stop. A heavy realization hit America. The man could probaly barely remember any of his own language much less a foreign one. America took a breath and dug up what few Russian words he knew from his mind.

"Россия! Успокойся!(2)" America said, struggling with the heavy pronounciations. They were strange to him and felt like lead on his tongue. However, slowly but surely the large man began to calm down, breathing heavily. America then proceeded to sling Russia's arms over his shoulders and piggy-back him. Being the freakishly strong nation he was, it was an easy task for him. He began to run through the cold, back to his camp.

America panted as he ducked through the flaps of his tent, he plopped Russia down onto his sleeping bag and began to lay blankets on the man and wrapped them around and around until he looked something simmilar to a cacoon. Russia's eyes began to droop.

"Crap! Stay with me, dude!" America shook him and Russia groaned, not even having enough strength to shake the American off. He propped Russia up. Panick rose in his chest."Don't. Fall. Asleep." Russia blinked. America took that as an "ok" and began to light a match for a small fire, leaning outside the tent. He had cleared most of the snow and hopefully it would be dry enough to ignite something on it. Relief sparked in his stomach as a small flame rose on his pile of sticks when he held the match under them. Once the fire was stable America pulled Russia closer to it. Both sat in silence. Russia swayed as heat slowly spread through him, along with the warm melted the numbness. Without the numb of cold he slowly began to feel his injuries again. He hissed as pain shot up his arm. America looked over.

"Can you understand English again?" Russia solmenly nodded.

"Da-I mean-yes."

"Can I see your arm then?" Russia sighed, he would have to swallow his pride and allow it, what else could he do? He was at this nation's mercy. He nodded. America gently began to unwrap the blankets around the man and took out and help to the swollen limb of an arm.

"Dude, how'd you get it like this?" Russia shrugged, which hurt like hell, he had no idea, in fact, it seemed he couldn't recal the last 24 hours.

"I once heard that hypothermia causes Amnesia, maybe that's why...?" Again, Russia shrugged, only with one arm this time. Which kinda just looked like he was akwardly moving his shoulder up and down but America got the message. Never the less, America began to make a sling for his Russian Ally. It felt like a clean break in his forearm but he still needed to set it. Russia seemed to understand as America stopped tying the sling halfway through. He squinted in dislike. America looked up at him.

"Ready?"

"Da."

"Do you want me to count to three?"

"Niet, just do it."

"Ok..."

There was a small "click" as America slid the bones together and Russia shut his eyes and grimiced.

"Done."

"Good." Russia panted. America then began to tie the rest of the sling. He then sat down next to his..."friend?"... and attempted at conversation.

"Russia?"

"America?"

"Are we friends?"

"Friends?" Russia said, puzzled. "Niet, I do not think so. We despise eachother, yet we help eachother. I do not think there is a word for us."

"What about Frenemy?"

"Frenemy?"

"Like, a friend and enemy."

"Da. That sounds right."

" Alright, so then we are frenemies." A comfortable silence fell over them until Russia broke it with a dry cough.

"Aww man, dude, don't get sick now, were in the middle of nowhere with no medicle help~!"

"I-I am not sick."

"Well that's impressive considering you just got over hypothermia."

"I am Mother Russia, what can I say?"

"Your a lying mutha fuka that's what you are.(3)"

"You are funny. I am Mother Russ-" A series of coughs escaped him and he sat up and blushed. "I am...going to bed."

"You do that." America smirked.

"Take that smile off your face or I will be forced to rip it off in the night, da?" America laughed.

"Glad to see your still Russia, Russia."

"Mother Russia."

"Don't push it."

1.(Where am I? Why are you speaking strangley?)".

! Calm do

3. That was an intentional rhyme and joke, people. \^o^/ your welcome.


End file.
